


Legs

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe the grim reaper's an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legs

“The fuck are you doing back here? Can’t a guy die in fucking peace!?”

“That’s actually what I’m here about.” the Courier replies.

“Why, you bring Med-X?”

“A little,” she admits, “but I brought something else I think you’ll like.”

“A gun that fits in my fucking mouth?”

She slings the bag from over her shoulder, and takes something out. It looks like... “Legs.”

There are some things coming out of that bag he likes (stims, Med-X, _legs_ ) and a lot of things he doesn’t (scalpel, belt, bonesaw). Boxcars eyes the last one nervously. “...I’m gonna be a fucking amputee, aren’t I?”

“It’s not so bad.”

“Yeah? How the fuck do you know?”

Eyes down in that bag, she pulls up her jean leg. Nothing but metal peeks above the boot. “You’re not the only one.”

“I’m expecting they’re infected.”

“Fuck, I don’t know. I think.”

“If it’s bad, I’m not gonna tell you.” She turns from the sink, shaking off her wet hands. “I’ll just kill you while you’re under.”

The Powder Ganger swallows thickly. “Fuck, man, anything’s better than this.”

It takes him weeks to recover. She’s gone most of the time, “Working,” whatever the fuck that means for her. Doesn’t matter if she enslaves kiddies at this point; she’s a fucking saint to Boxcars. Those prosthetics sit on a counter across the room, where he can’t get to them. Nothing he could do with them, anyway. Stumps are too tender to change the bandages without Med-X half the time.

But it passes.

“It’s gonna take a long time to get used to.” Six warns the day they get him on crutches.

“Yeah? I wouldn’t have fucking guessed, learning to walk again.”

Her lips flatten, between frowning and trying not to. “I meant seeing the stumps.”

Boxcars kind of wants to die by the time they get to NCRCF. His arms are killing him, even with all the breaks they took, but he’s eaten everything in that damn store. She stops at the bottom of the hill, wrong side. “This is where I leave you.”

“What, you’re not coming in?”

“Can’t,” she says, “Powder Gangers shoot me on sight.”

“Right. Yeah.” He remembers now. Chick killed Joe Cobb. “Man, I don’t think anyone's gonna listen to me, especially not now that I’m fuckin’ useless, but... you’re a fucking saint in my book.”

“Thanks, Boxcars.” Six replies with a little forced smile. “See you never, I guess.”

“Yeah... See ya.”

She turns to go.

“Ah, fuck it!”

Boxcars drops his crutches, and hugs her so tight her back cracks. In a matter of seconds he’s crying so hard, there’s snot all over her jacket. “Oh, suck it up, you big baby,” she mutters, but nuzzles into his shoulder as well, “you want the whole prison to hear you?”


End file.
